Why don’t they teach you in school
all the different ways of people
the narcissists need to control
their treatment that turns cold
the manipulators need to hold
separating heart from soul
We do not see evil deeds until it is our time to bleed
the tricksters lies to deceive, the rule book they will never read,
emotional blackmail or coercion killing the dream of the person
the tattletales fictional version always depicting who is the worse one
Because those who don’t play by the rules
don’t stop until you’re miserable
teaching what’s not taught in school
so you learn after the fall
Mental health is on a scale
success as easy as the fail
yet with no method to tell
behaviour heading straight for Hell
so in this world made of people
we cannot detect what’s lethal
taught things which we have no need for
psychology is what we should teach more
Armour up our mental health
protecting us from someone else
just some knowledge there to help
so we see evil deeds in stealth
A radar to protect oneself
armed to save our mental health
There are strange noises happening in my apartment. Voices groaning in pain, and crying in anguishing angst. I called the police, as I just thought my depression is talking in hallucination.
The police arrived in time.
I told him about the experience.
“There is nothing we can do to help you. I am not hearing any voices!”
He was looking around.
And I was still hearing the voices. Supplication within. Supplication without.
Supplication in an area claiming to be in the indigenous area. The different “INDIANS” than brown-colored Asian Indians.
And this is Death bed. I am selfish to own only me, there. And this is not an emotional blackmail. Not to you, not to them.
I am none other than just another among a mass, among a crowd, staring at life.
Poetry. Lullaby.
Whatever.
blackmailing of the heart
shakedown of the soul
regression threatened
reversion tactics used
estrangement loomed
extraction of emotional attachment
gone from the world of connection
left with nothing but memories
This is western society,
How much is distorted realism?
Talk in sinister sexism,
Casually call criticism,
Typecast fashion femmes,
What about men?
High heels or no,
They'll call you a ho!
You can't blame women,
For control mechanisms!
Emotional blackmail,
A world run by males,
We should empower the young,
For their lives in the sun,
When was misogyny begun?
Any real chance of equality,
in our western society?
Oct 2014
Emotional blackmail
Rejection unveiled
Manipulative plan
To get what they can
Absorbed in their needs
Their own ego’s to feed
He had to leave . He was forced to go.
A loveless life . Apart from his kids .
Kids he adored . Tricked by her .
Used those kids . Like pawns in a game .
Emotional blackmail. . To her own gain.
She was so cold, Heartless too.
Loved his kids . With all his heart.
She cheated and lied . Played it all like a game
She didn’t care . Set out to hurt . Kids n all
No matter what. . She got her way . At any cost...
Spite full and nasty . She made him look ..
She told all her lies . At any cost.
Destroyed his spirit . Left him empty.
Kids confused. With all her lies.
He pleaded and begged . To share his kids..
She laughed and lied . Left him destroyed
To her gain . So she thought .
Left alone now . Nobody wants to know the spiteful
Nasty woman she’s became..
Words betray me
Abandoning in the time
Of their need
Thoughts escape
Unfaithful thoughts, evaporate
I panic
Memories, sweet memories
Please come rushing back
I need to recall
I have to narrate
Emotional blackmail
Whatever it takes
I can beg
I can plead
Just don't walk away
From us
From me
Give me a minute
A minute in exchange of years
For I have to search
Words, thoughts and memories
I grope
I grab
But they slip
Evading my lips
I am trying
Wait
Listen
Today cursed, I am
Tongue tied, I hear
His rationalizations
His justifications
Babbling
Mumbling
And then foot steps
Foot steps-
The last sound of his
To echo
And it will
Forever
In moments of my unforgivable silence
Scene 1 act 1
no other scene thus far
the game of making one's life unfair
studied and carried out
like a metaphorical game of baseball
Batter up actor
the bases of society still remain unrealised
base to base a manupulation of logic
creating fear driven gullible fools
If it doesn't make sense it's not true
and in this scientific psychological religious nightmare
several actors, performing in a few secret locations
for a target audience who remains absolutely clueless
as something not real becomes and seems more real
psychologicaly manipulating society with the emotional blackmail
of several different temptations
a roller coaster ride
impossible to win
and when you realise how
the blame game begins
and leaves you the enemy of the state
Learning to see through the lie
learning to slide home
with simple rules we never forget
to keep it simple
and allow the nonsense to make sense
like a theme park of line ups
of never ending tourists
that never make it home
when you marble my spoons man
the porcupine becomes a pancake
the act of repeating your backwards logic
on stages for your target audiences
more gullible than you could ever expect
the solid rock, from its tallest perch
was tumbling down, after navel – gazing –
in songs of darkness ; had the hidden
aloofness in space and time,
i have become a tree, intend to teach
the truth of roots ; eating the body
of gods, one prayer changes the fright
of depth, meanwhile you become the ethnic wait
in sprawling riots, the inside of ire was
very red ; screams, bends, shakes, takes away
emotional blackmail, hairs standing like
candles burning, the conditioning was over –
in granite falls, it was rain of tears on
flames of freedom at the street, a crowd
becomes a large leaf swaying on the waves of a red
river, flowing sensuously in a young city
Hearing the riots in Uramqi of Xinjiang region of China on 5th july 09
where 156 people died and 1000 were wounded.
SATISH VERMA
Masquerade
Tilt the balance scale gently
then to find what maybe
the culmination of action
speaking
doing
building by impression
the mask of another person
Eventually totality of what shall be
the papermache of opinion
constructed and connived
by inability’s pride to discover
face value
Convene then dissimilar life
for the other tribe to live by
so and so and they are
that
with the poetic justice of self satisfaction
misjudgements interpretation
forced onto the world of the dissimilar
someone
Intellectual Yobs
sanctimonious self righteous miniatures
playing with emotional aggression
attacking by loving
kicking by caring
until the individual is drown
maiming by demanding
violence by expectation
until the mask is patterned
Slap decisions
stamped estimation
teach by ordeal
be sure to be sure of exactly
who you are
paint their camouflage for them
in the colours
of your judgements
hold together the tissue of their life
with the glue
of emotional blackmail
She talks often of dusty surfaces
and laundry, more
I think, these last months, of leaving
the housework and me;
she tells in barbed epithets of
past indiscretions and wrongdoings
attributed to the mechanisms of
my capricious personality.
Each wicker basket filled with garments
of misbehaviour, and
comments and actions performed,
things I didn’t but should have done;
collectively, shirts of neglect, vests
of distaste, pants of misdeeds
thrown into automatic spins,
until their natures and colours run.
There is no denying, for each article is
labelled with my name, there
for all the world to see, rags and
dirty dealings in her beautiful laundrette;
niggling collars of failings, sleeves
of emotional blackmail, socks of sarcasm,
dirty washing strung up and aired
dripping acidic, fresh and wet.
So, I carry my basket with me, wherever
I go, and some things I put
away, and others I toss in the trash and
certain things I keep and wear;
for their feel to me is a reminder,
their scent a primal keepsake, of each
goading snipe as it chisels and chips
predictors of how soon before I cease to care…